The Manner of Giving
by Tabitha12
Summary: It’s The Captain's birthday, and Candy and Jonathan go to work for Claymore Gregg to earn the money to buy the 'perfect present' for their hero. Please read and review with kindness.


_**Title: The Manner of Giving **_

_**Author: Mary**_

_**Rating: K**_

_**Summary: It's The Captain's birthday, and Candy and Jonathan go to work for Claymore Gregg to earn the money to buy the 'perfect present' for their hero.**_

_**Disclaimer: The characters from 'The Ghost and Mrs. Muir' belong to 20th Century Fox and David Gerber productions.**_

_**No infringement is intended, no profit is made, and the characters will be returned unharmed from whence they came. This story is for enjoyment only. All other characters, plots, story lines and development of GAMM characters belong to the authors and may not be used or changed without express written permission.**_

_**Special thanks to Amanda for the Beta Read and even more important, for encouraging me along the way**_

The Manner of Giving Thursday, March 5, 1970 

The beginning of something wonderful can arrive in the most inauspicious of ways, as Candy and Jonathan were about to find out. Schooner Bay Grammar School had let out for the day, and they were making their way home on their bikes, where, in addition to their mother, Martha, Scruffy, Captain Gregg and Cousin Harriet awaited. Midway through town, their landlord, Claymore Gregg stepped out to the edge of the street, waving them over to where he was standing.

"Yoo-hoo! Kids! Oh, children . . . " Rolling their eyes slightly, the two came to a halt and waited for their landlord to bustle over to where they now stood by their bikes. "Candy? Jonathan?" He panted, coming nearer. "Hey, have you two got a second? I have something for you."

Candy looked at Claymore Gregg tentatively. "You have something — for us?" Her eyes said_ 'I doubt it,'_ but, always having been taught to be polite to her elders, regardless what the circumstances, she kept a straight face. Jonathan, however, was not quite so tactful.

"You?" The boy's mouth dropped open, and he shook his head quickly and closed it again. "Claymore, you never give anybody, anything."

The landlord looked wounded. "I do, too! What about that silver I donated for the Centennial Games grand prize last September? And my office furniture . . ."

Candy cut him off. "That silver service was really Captain Gregg's from a long time ago, you shouldn't have donated it without telling him, AND he made you win it back. The office furniture the Captain gave away because you took his antiques out of the cellar," she said, placing her hands on her hips. "And . . ."

"N-never mind," he interrupted her, hastily. "This time I really DO have something to give to your mom . . . Captain Gre . . . your mom. Now kids, stop acting like children and come with me, please." Turning on his heel, not waiting for their answer, he headed for his office, the two reluctantly following.

**xxxxxxxxxx**

"Just leave your bikes outside," Claymore said, as he unlocked the front door. "Nothing will happen to them. You won't be here that long." Straightaway, he started toward his living quarters in the back, leaving Candy and Jonathan out in the front office area.

"That's nice to know . . ." Jonathan muttered. "I didn't want to be here, anyway."

"Neither did I," Candy shrugged, and looked around. "This place sure is messy. Look at Claymore's desk! I wonder how he finds anything?"

"His mom sure never yelled at HIM about being neat!" Jonathan agreed, setting a small wastebasket right side up, and throwing away an apple core and a half-dried banana skin. "I wonder what he wants us for, anyway?"

No sooner were the words out of the boy's mouth than Claymore Gregg came bustling back in again, carrying a large object wrapped in a tattered gray bath towel and tied with a piece of binding twine.

"Here," he said, placing the object in Candy's hands. "I want you to give this to your mother for me."

"What is it?" Candy asked, holding the object by the tips of her fingers. The towel wasn't what you would exactly call clean. "Why are you giving it to Mom?"

"It's the Gregg Family Bible," Claymore explained, as he dusted off his hands. "I found it in the back room in a trunk. I've been cleaning my office — trying to get my papers in order for filing my taxes next month."

Jonathan and Candy looked around, confused. "Cleaning?" Candy asked. "It sure doesn't . . ."

"Now, just never you mind," Claymore sniffed. "It's my system. I seem to remember your mother having papers all over the floor when she was working on her taxes last year, too."

"Just on the floor," Candy nodded. "For one or two days, maybe . . ."

"But she didn't have apple cores and bananas and . . . " Jonathan picked up a piece of petrified baloney, at least that's what he thought it was, and tossed it in the wastebasket. There was a solid sounding 'clunk' as the object hit the bottom of the metal can. " . . . Stuff like this around."

"Now you see here, young man . . ." Claymore started, but Candy jumped in hastily.

"Okay, Mister Gregg," she placated him. "You want us to bring the Bible home and give it to Mom? Why?"

"I thought she might need it while she and the Captain are writing the memoirs," Claymore explained. "You tell Spooky he can keep the Bible when he is done with it. I don't want it, and besides I doubt he will give it back to me, anyway. You just be sure to tell your mother I want another mention in the bibliography, and another little credit in the forward would be nice, too, and . . ."

"Why don't YOU bring the Bible out, Claymore?" Candy asked. "Then you could tell Mom what you think you should get."

"Now why should I go all the way out to Gull Cottage when you two are right here, and you have the space in your bike basket, and . . . "

"And you don't have to see Captain Gregg, or waste your gas money, right, Claymore?" Jonathan asked, cutting to the heart of the matter.

"That is only an added benefit," Claymore said. "Now don't get smart. You two run along now, and don't forget — I want my towel back, washed and fluffed, please. Otherwise you owe me a dollar."

Deciding it was easier to agree with the nervous man than to argue, the children said their good-byes, and, placing the Bible carefully in Candy's bike basket, the two siblings headed for Gull Cottage.

**xxxxxxxxxx**

"Hi, Martha! We're home!" Jonathan called as they entered the front door and stopped momentarily in the foyer.

"I hear you!" They heard the housekeeper's voice coming from the kitchen area. "I'm sorting laundry! Come on in here! Your afternoon snack is on the table!" Dropping their schoolbooks in the hall and bringing the Bible with them, brother and sister made their way into the kitchen.

"Hey, you two," Martha said, as they sat down and started demolishing the cookies and milk Martha had placed there. "You're running late today. You didn't get kept after school or anything, did you?"

"Uhh, Uhh," Jonathan grunted, trying hard not to talk with his mouth full.

Candy swallowed before her brother. "Claymore stopped us as we were heading home," she said. "He wanted us to bring this to Mom." She pointed to the bundle and took another swallow of milk.

"What is it?" Martha asked. "Never mind," she continued. "Whatever it is, it's dirty, and it will have to wait. Your mother is trying to get some work done before Cousin Harriet gets back to the house."

"Where did she go?" Jonathan asked, reaching for another cookie.

"Just into town. She said she needed to pick up a few things. I'm surprised you didn't run into her. She should be back here in an hour or so." Martha sighed. "I'd love to get the rest of the laundry at least sorted before she gets back," she said. "She keeps asking me questions about how much detergent and softener I use and how long I have been a housekeeper. Blasted . . . " The housekeeper broke off, realizing that the inquisitive soul she was 'blasting' about was still a relative of the Muir children, and she headed back to the laundry porch.

Martha was back a few minutes later with a basket full of folded clothes. "You need to finish up there before too long, kids," she said. "I'm going to take this load upstairs and get it put away and I'll tell your mom you're home, okay? She must not have heard you come in. Probably has her bedroom door closed."

"Okay," Candy said through her cookie, Jonathan nodding also.

"Good. Maybe then you can get a little homework done before dinner," Martha smiled and headed toward the stairs.

"I don't have any!" Jonathan shouted after the woman, but she didn't respond. "You have any, Candy?" he asked his sister in a more normal tone of voice.

"A little," Candy shrugged. "If I hurry, I can probably get it done before we eat."

"Good," Jonathan made a face. "Then you can help me keep Cousin Harriet company."

"Blast," Candy answered. "Maybe we can go to a movie, or something. I don't feel like answering any more of her questions." Idly, Candy untied the twine around the towel-wrapped package containing the Bible.

"On a school night?" Jonathan said. "Are you expecting a miracle, or something?"

"Maybe we can," his sister answered, as she finished removing the string and started to pull the Bible out of its makeshift towel wrapping. "Mom said Cousin Harriet has been keeping her busy, and if she's finished her own writing assignment, I heard the Captain say he wants to work on his Memoirs. If none of us are here, including Cousin Harriet, they can do that, and now they even have this Bible to help them."

"How can a Bible help, anyway?" Jonathan asked, reaching to finish pulling away the dirty towel.

"I'm not sure, exactly," his sister answered. "Let's look, and see."

"It sure doesn't look like the one Grandma Muir gave you for your birthday last year," Jonathan observed. "This one is a lot bigger. And the front isn't nearly as pretty as yours."

"Lots of old stuff is bigger than the same things are now," Candy said, opening the front cover of the museum piece to the flyleaf. "Like record players and radios. I think that's partly how you know it's old. You go by how big it is."

"What makes a Gregg Bible different from an ordinary Bible, anyway?" Jonathan asked. "Does the Captain get different rules and stories and stuff?"

"No, Jonathan," Candy sighed, assuming a big sister attitude. "It's the same words and everything. 'Gregg' just means it has lots of Gregg family history in it — important dates and stuff, and it gets handed down from the parents to the kids, and all that." Carefully, she turned over a page. "This one sure is old, though. And look at the pages that look like tissue paper in front of the pictures!"

"Hey," her brother paused, pointing to a page. "Look. You were right. There is history. Look at the writing here . . . what does that say? It sure looks funny. You can read cursive writing better than I can."

"Hmm." Candy frowned, and started to read the old-fashioned script slowly. _"Joseph Elias Gregg and Cassandra Marie O'Neill. Married: May fourteenth, eighteen twenty-four. _They must be relatives of the Captain's."

Jonathan looked at the next line_. "April eighth, eighteen-twenty-five. Daniel Alexander Gregg, born to Cassandra and Joseph Gregg — a fine and sturdy baby . . . "_

_"H_ey!" Candy cried, "Daniel Alexander! That is the Captain's real name, I'm sure of it! Joseph and Cassandra Gregg have to be the Captain's parents, and April eighth must be the Captain's birthday! We finally figured out when it is!"

"Are you sure?" Jonathan asked, doubtfully.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Candy insisted.

"How do you know for positive?" her brother pressed. "That long ago? Really?"

"Well," Candy explained patiently. "It just figures, that's all. Mom finally told us that we really celebrated the Captain's death-day, not his birthday last November thirteenth, right?"

"Right . . ."

"And we know the Captain said he died a hundred years ago, right?" she continued.

"Right."

"So, that means he died in eighteen-sixty-nine."

"Uh-huh . . . " Jonathan answered, still not quite getting his sister's point.

"So, the Captain is like forty-four years old . . ." Candy continued.

"What makes you think he's forty-four?" Jonathan scratched his head.

"Because, well, because we KNOW Mom is old . . . thirty-three, Cousin Harriet was saying yesterday, and she said Mom wasn't getting any younger, and Captain Gregg looks at least ten years older than Mom does, so he must be about forty-four years old — or almost forty-five, I mean if he was alive and it was . . . well you know what I mean."

"Oh," Jonathan said again. "So?"

"So subtract forty-four from the year eighteen-sixty-nine, Jonathan. What do you get?"

"Hey! Yeah!" The 'light bulb' went off over Jonathan's head. "Eighteen twenty-five! And the name — Daniel Alexander Gregg! It's gotta be his birthday!"

"Yeah," Candy said, nodding. "This is cool. We figured it out, even after he forgot!"

Martha came back into the kitchen. "Figured what out, Jonathan? Have you two finished your snack, yet?"

"Almost," Jonathan answered, taking another swig of milk.

"Watch it, Jonathan!" Candy scolded him. "Don't drip anything on this!"

"Drip anything on what, Candy?" Martha asked, peering at the object on Candy's lap. "Jonathan didn't get anything on it."

"Oh, good," Candy breathed a sigh of relief. "Where's the Captain?"

"How do you expect me to keep track of a ghost? As it happens, this time I know where he is. He's at the beach — doing some surveying for those sea charts of his. Why?"

"Look what we found!" Jonathan said, excited. "Claymore gave us the Gregg Family Bible to give to Mom, and it has this." He pointed to the page. "And we figured out when the Captain's birthday is! April eighth, eighteen twenty-five!"

"Birthday?" Martha looked puzzled. "I thought you . . . that is, didn't you have a birthday party for him last November? I mean, well, then I thought he was your invisible friend . . . "

"Well, he IS invisible, sometimes," Jonathan interrupted.

"And you even got me to make a cake for him," Martha continued. "So isn't that when his birthday was? Last November?"

Candy looked embarrassed. "Sorry, Martha. I guess we forgot to tell you, or forgot you didn't know because you didn't know about the Captain then. That cake you made last November . . . " She broke off, and blushed.

"It WAS supposed to be for the Captain's birthday," Jonathan continued. "But, see, the Captain couldn't remember when his birthday was, so we asked Claymore, and he gave us the wrong date, and we, well, we . . . "

"We ended up giving him a birthday party for the day he DIED!" Candy interrupted again. "It was all so embarrassing. But it wouldn't have happened if the Captain had remembered the right date to begin with."

Martha grinned. "Imagine — a guy so old he doesn't know when he was born himself! I think I'd like selective amnesia like that when MY birthday comes around!"

"Well, you always say yours is a state secret, anyway, Martha," Candy pointed out.

"True," Martha nodded. "Well, this time I WILL come to the party. I'll even make the cake again."

"With a hundred and forty-five candles?" Jonathan asked eagerly. "That would take a really BIG cake!" He smacked his lips at the thought.

"I don't think so." Candy shook her head. "If we had that many candles, we'd burn up the cake."

"Not to mention Gull Cottage!" Martha added. "And I don't think the captain would like THAT as a birthday present. We better settle for forty-five candles. What kind should I make for him this time?"

"Chocolate cake!" Jonathan shouted.

"No! Coconut cream birthday cake!" Candy shouted louder.

At that point, Carolyn walked into the kitchen. "Whose birthday cake?" she inquired. "Hi, sweeties." She gave each of them a hug and a kiss. "Now what is all this about?"

"The Captain's cake, Mom," her son answered. "Oh, Claymore gave us this Bible to give to you, and —"

"It's the Gregg Family Bible," Candy broke in. "And guess what? The Captain's birthday — his REAL birthday — is listed right here in front!"

"Along with the birth dates of his grandparents and parents and the dates they were married," Martha added, still peering at the volume over Candy's shoulder.

Carolyn grinned. "Well, what do you know? When is it?"

"April eighth!" The children said together.

"That's only a month from now," Jonathan added.

"How about that?" Their mother smiled again. "And just in time to include it in the Memoirs! The Captain is going to be tickled when I tell him."

"Do you HAVE to tell him, Mom?" Candy groaned.

"Yeah, do you?" Jonathan joined in. "Do you?"

Carolyn looked puzzled. "Well, of course I do. It's his BIRTHDAY, for heaven's sake. And he really doesn't remember when it was. He mentioned it to me just yesterday. Why shouldn't I tell him?"

"Well, it's just that it would be fun to surprise him with a party and all," Candy explained.

"Don't you remember when we tried to do that last November?" Carolyn asked. "We almost drove him crazy. And we really hurt his feelings when we kept avoiding him. I don't think he can take a surprise like that again."

"It drove us crazy too, Mom . . ." Jonathan pointed out.

"Not to mention Scruffy," Candy added. "Barking and pointing all over the place."

"Well, kids, I really need to let him know — you know, because of the Memoirs. But we can still have a party for him next month and everything." She watched her children's faces. "Don't look so disappointed! It might even be better if he knows it's coming. He'll be a gentleman and not peek, or listen in on our plans. We can have a great party."

The spirit of Gull Cottage popped in at that moment. "Party for whom, my dear?"

Carolyn beamed at him. "Why, for you, Captain. Look what Claymore found!" She handed him the Bible, opened to the proper page. "Look at what it says right there," she pointed.

"So NOW do you remember your birthday, Captain?" Jonathan asked, triumphantly.

"Yeah," Candy added. "April eighth, eighteen-twenty-five. That's it, isn't it, Captain? We're right, aren't we?"

Daniel Gregg stared down at the page. "Well, I'll be . . ." He nodded and looked a bit chagrined. "Joseph and Cassandra were indeed my parents, and I'm certainly Daniel Alexander. April eighth . . ." he said thoughtfully. "Odd. I really didn't remember the day at all. Not in connection to myself, at any rate."

"But at least it isn't the day Aaron Burr shot Alexander Hamilton," Candy pointed out.

"No," Captain shook his head and stroked the page bearing the date with his fingertips. "Actually, I only remember April eighth as Lewis Morris' birthday."

"Who's that?" Candy asked. "A friend of yours?"

"Hardly!" the Captain answered. "Lewis Morris happens to be the Congressional Representative of New York who was one of the original signers of the Declaration of Independence. He was born in seventeen twenty-five — a hundred years before me, as it turns out. I learned about him when I was being schooled."

"I don't know how you can remember your birthday date for that and not for your own birthday," Jonathan observed.

"An important man in history, Jonathan. April eighth," the seaman murmured. "That's it, all right." He turned to Carolyn. "And Claymore sent this Bible to us? I wonder how he got it? I suppose I will have to say thank-you to the barnacle for this."

"I would think so!" Carolyn smiled. "But, be careful, Captain, the shock of you saying something nice to him might send Claymore to an early grave!"

"I'm always nice!" The spirit said, affronted. "Just not to Claymore." He smiled again. "It might be worth saying thank-you just to see the expression on his face when I say it!"

**xxxxxxxxxx**

Apparently, miracles can and do happen. That night, as Candy had hoped, Carolyn, wanting to work with the Captain on the Memoirs without being disturbed, suggested that Martha, Harriet and the kids go to a movie, weeknight not withstanding. Some miracles are better than others are, and this was one of the others. The movie turned out to be not so great — one of those, Martha Grant pointed out when the troupe returned home later, which was improved by commercials. Ignoring Harriet's strong hints that she could see much better movies if she was living in Philadelphia, Carolyn watched Martha herd Candy and Jonathan off to bed — reminding her cousin that the children did have school the next day. After avoiding Harriet's questions upon finding Daniel Gregg's pipe, and the wine glasses and carafe the seaman had mischievously placed on the coffee table in the living room, Carolyn said she was tired, excused herself and went upstairs where she tucked her children in bed — Daniel Gregg at her side doing the same, as he had every night since introducing himself to Candy during a thunderstorm.

After the Spirit and the Lady of Gull Cottage had left, closing the bedroom door behind them, Jonathan sat up in bed again.

"Good," the boy hissed. "They're gone. I thought I'd fall asleep before everyone left."

"I AM!" Candy mumbled. "Go to sleep, Jonathan. We have school tomorrow."

"But . . ." he protested. "What about the Captain's birthday? What are we going to give him, Candy? It's only a month away!"

Candy sat up straight in her bed. "Gee. I hadn't thought about that, Jonathan." She scratched her head and looked a bit baffled. "I was just happy we were the ones to figure out what day it was to begin with."

"It has to be something really cool," Jonathan insisted. "He does so much neat stuff for us."

Candy nodded. "Well, we could make him a card, and maybe we can ask — "

"I don't want to ASK anyone for money, Candy!" Jonathan's voice was getting a bit louder. "And I don't want to make him anything, I can't think of anything we could MAKE him that would be near good enough."

"Well, what then?" Candy asked. She looked a bit uneasy. "But quiet down, huh?"

"Sorry!" Jonathan whispered. "Any ideas?"

"You've known him longer," Candy whispered back. "What do you think we should do? You want to buy him something?"

Jonathan nodded. "Yeah. I don't know what, but it has to be something really cool. I want to get him a present — buy him something, just like we buy Mom and Martha presents. Captain Gregg is the greatest. He deserves something really wonderful."

"Well . . ." Candy paused and then nodded. "I think you're right. That would be the best thing." She looked toward the dresser to where they kept their piggy banks. "We need to see how much money we have, and then we can start looking for something really good."

"Let's do it now!" And Jonathan started to get out of bed.

"Are you nuts?" Candy demanded, in a hushed voice that still managed to convey the meaning of the word 'stop.' "We can't get out of bed now! Someone will hear us, and then we'll really be in for it!"

Jonathan nodded and crawled back under the covers again. "Yeah. Sorry, Candy. Bet Cousin Harriet would hear us in a minute and tell Mom or Martha. We'll have to do it tomorrow morning. Then we can take our money with us to school and go by Ollie Wilkins store on the way home and . . ."

"Tomorrow," Candy said, sliding under her covers. "G'Night, Jonathan. Don't worry. We'll figure something out."

"G'Night, Candy," he whispered back, already half-asleep. "Something will work out tomorrow — it just HAS to."

**xxxxxxxxxx**

To everyone's relief, the next day was Harriet's last to make trouble for them — for this visit, anyway. After one last speech with and as the Captain, Claymore could go back to being himself, for good or for ill, and Harriet finally went home, convinced that "Carolyn's Captain Gregg was the greatest thing since sliced bread."

That afternoon, after Harriet's departure, the children, who had overslept that morning, and had therefore NOT had time to break open their piggy banks, rode home from school in record time, made a mad run through the kitchen, practically inhaling their afternoon snack and hardly saying a word when Martha mentioned that her employer and Captain Gregg were taking a walk on the beach after working hard on the Memoirs all day. Finishing their snacks in seven minutes flat, the two headed for their room. Once upstairs, they wasted no time emptying their piggy banks out on Candy's bed.

**xxxxxxxxxx**

"Seventy-five, seventy-six, seventy-seven, seventy-eight," Candy said with a sigh. "That's it, Jonathan."

"You POSITIVE?" her brother moaned. "I was sure we'd have more than that! Count it again!"

Candy shook her head. "I've counted it three times. And I could count it another ten times. The answer would still be the same. There's . . ."

" . . . Six dollars and seventy-eight cents," Jonathan said quietly. "Blast! That's not going to be enough for anything good. I just know it."

"There MIGHT be something," Candy said, sifting the coins through her fingers. "We'll never know until we try. Mom and the Captain always say we have to think positive."

"I AM positive," her brother answered, discouraged. "I'm positive we aren't going to find a birthday present for the Captain that costs six dollars and seventy-eight cents."

"Maybe we will," Candy said bravely. "Tomorrow is Saturday. We'll ask mom if we can take our bikes into town to Ollie's and look. Maybe there'll be SOMETHING good."

**xxxxxxxxxx**

The following morning, as soon as they knew the general store would be open, the children did just as they planned. Once inside the store, they went up and down the aisles a dozen times, looking at everything, old and new. Candy vetoed Jonathan's suggestion — a ten-pound bag of gumdrops, and Jonathan vote against a glass dolphin that Candy thought might be nice, saying it was both too breakable, and more important, cost way more than what they had, anyway. Both of them were briefly enamored with a ship's lantern they were sure their Captain would love, but, as Ollie was asking fifty dollars, it was out of the question. Then Candy pointed out that it might as well cost five hundred dollars, for all the good it would do them with so little money in their pockets. Finally, they found a lovely painting of a ship Jonathan was positive the Captain would like, but as its price tag read twenty dollars, and Ollie said firmly that he didn't do lay-away, it was just as out of the question as anything else that caught their eye. Discouraged, the children walked empty-handed out of the general store.

"We'll just have to see what we can do to earn some more money," Candy said, as they reached the curb. "We do have a little bit of time before the Captain's birthday, so maybe we can earn a little money doing extra stuff for Mom, or maybe a few other people around town. You know, washing cars, or walking dogs or something."

Jonathan shrugged. "I guess. And maybe in a week or so we'll have earned enough money to go shopping again. Maybe Ollie will have a sale."

"You think so?" Candy asked. "I can't remember him having any sales — not really."

"No," her brother admitted. "I can't either. But right now it's the only chance we have."

**xxxxxxxxxx**

Circumstances and events being what they were, Candy and Jonathan didn't have too many chances to earn any money for the birthday fund in the week or so that followed Harriet's visit. There were still pesky little details like school and homework, and then of course the surprise visit of Carolyn's mother and father to check out Carolyn's Captain (Claymore) and all the events that followed — the almost-wedding, renewal of vows, and all.

The total in the birthday fund went up by four dollars, however. Brad and Emily stayed for a few days after their renewal of vows and had a good visit with Carolyn and the children and Martha. While they were there, Candy helped Emily wind yarn for her crocheting and Jonathan got busy and polished Brad and Emily's shoes, whether they needed it or not. For this industriousness, they were each paid two dollars, bringing their funds up to ten seventy-eight — still not enough for the painting or the lantern, and not for anything else, either, as they discovered the afternoon of March eighth, when they once more stopped by Ollie Wilkins' general store to see what could be had for their available funds.

As brother and sister came out of the store, empty-handed and discouraged, they were once more hailed by Claymore Gregg. "Yoo hoo! Kids! Candy — Jonathan . . ."

Jonathan rolled his eyes at his sister, and Candy glanced at the lanky man as he raced across the street, narrowly missing a passing motorist, who beeped his horn furiously and shook his fist, making inaudible comments best left that way. "Again? Wonder what HE wants?" he asked his sister. "I don't feel like listening to him today."

"Me, neither, Jonathan," Candy answered. "But it looks like we aren't going to get away from him." She paused as the nervous man came up to them. "Did you need something, Claymore?" she asked, feigning a politeness she didn't feel.

"I need you to swing by my office for a few minutes, kids," he said briskly.

"Do you have another Bible for the Captain, Claymore?" Jonathan asked, intrigued. "I didn't know that families had more than one."

"They don't." Claymore shook his head. "And keep your voice down about Spook-Face. I don't have another Bible. I have some insurance papers I want you to give to your mother. You need to take them home and have her sign them and bring them back to me."

"Why don't YOU just bring them out, Claymore?" Candy asked, reasonably, as they started walking their bikes across the street, trying to keep up with the tall man's strides. "Is there something wrong with your car? This makes twice that — " The nervous man cut her off.

"Now, now — stop complaining, please. There's nothing wrong with my car. It's just that you're here, and I'm busy and you're heading home anyway, why should I make a needless trip? Besides, they are insurance papers on the house, and your mother is leasing the house."

"But you own the house!" Jonathan protested.

"But you're here," Claymore argued back, opening the door. "So you might as well come in and get them and stop complaining."

When they all stepped inside, Candy and Jonathan wondered silently if the place had been robbed and ransacked. If the office was messy two weeks ago, it now truly looked like a tornado had gone through the place. Horrified at the sight, they turned to Claymore Gregg — their eyes asking the unuttered question.

"I know — " Claymore said, having the grace to look a little embarrassed. "I have been trying to tidy a bit, but I'm still looking for some papers I need for my taxes, and, well business goes on — I've had lots of customers lately, and you know how it is . . . " His voice trailed off, and he started looking around for the papers he needed to give the children.

"Not really, Mister Gregg," Jonathan answered. "Our room has never been THIS bad!"

"You better believe it," Candy agreed. "The Captain would never let us let his ship get THIS messy!" and she moved toward a chair near his desk, looking for a place she could sit down without touching anything.

After ten minutes or so of shuffling through the piles on his desk, Claymore finally remembered that the needed insurance papers weren't in the office at all, but at the bank, two blocks away. In his rush to get very little accomplished, he had left them there that morning while making his weekly deposit. Practically flying out the door, he begged the children to stay and wait for him to fetch them.

Agreeing to the landlord's request, Candy and Jonathan waited. And waited. And waited.

xxxxxxxxxx

Jonathan looked at the clock on the wall.

"Claymore said he'd be right back, didn't he, Candy? How long do you think we'll have to stay here?"

Candy shook her head. "I don't know, but I wish he'd hurry. I don't want Mom to worry about us." Idly, she reached for some of the papers on Claymore's desk and began straightening them — turning them right side up, facing them all in the same direction.

"I wish he'd move it, too," Jonathan muttered. "This is getting kind of boring, just sitting around his office. What if someone comes in?" He gestured to the disarray. "What do we tell them? I wouldn't want them to think we made this mess."

"They won't," Candy answered wisely. "This place looked bad last time we were in here too — that was almost two weeks ago, remember? I'm sure everyone in Schooner Bay knows that." She sighed. "But if you're bored, go on home. I can stay here and wait. You can tell Mom that — " Her brother cut her off.

"Naa — I'd rather wait for you. I just want something to do. That's all." Jonathan looked around, stood up, and started pacing the untidy room. When he reached the open door that lead to the cellar, he stopped and peered down the stairs. Hesitating only for a moment, he started his descent.

"Jonathan, what are you doing?" Candy stood from her seat behind Claymore's desk, knocking over a poorly stacked tier of files there. "Blast," she uttered the oath like a certain sea captain, and scrambled to pick them up. "You shouldn't be going down there!"

"I only want to look around!" he protested from the bottom step. "I'm just seeing if Claymore's cellar looks like ours does!"

"Probably worse!" his sister shouted back, now putting what she had retrieved from the floor in order and placing them in an open file box she found over in the corner of the room. "After seeing all the stuff up here, I bet his cellar is probably much messier. You could probably get lost in all the junk he has down there!"

"Whoa! Candy!" Another shout came from the bottom of the stairs. "How cool! Wait until you see this!" Jonathan came thundering up the stairs, carrying something so large he was almost hidden behind it. "Look!" The boy took the object and placed it in the seat of the large desk chair Candy had vacated while she was straightening the files and papers on the desk. "Look at this!"

Candy stared in awe at the stuffed and mounted object in front of her. "Wow . . ." she said softly. "That's really neat, Jonathan! Just look at that fish!"

"It's not just a fish, it's a SAILfish," Jonathan said, looking smug. "The Captain told me about them. They're much cooler than ordinary fish. Isn't it great?"

"Sure is," Candy agreed, touching one of the fins gently. She turned to her brother. "Think Claymore caught it?"

"I don't believe so." Jonathan shook his head. "It's older than that — see?" He pointed to a date burned into the wood the fish was mounted on. Eighteen-sixty.

"Neat," his sister commented. "This sailfish is more than a hundred years old. Wonder why Claymore put it in the basement? It would look cool hanging on his wall. It could go right over there." She pointed to an empty spot on the wall near the window.

"Or decorating the wall at Norrie's restaurant," Jonathan added. "He has all that other nautical stuff there. Hey, Candy . . ." A thoughtful expression came over Jonathan's face. "You know, I was just thinking . . ."

"What?" she answered, looking instantly intrigued in her brother's tone of voice.

"Well, I was just wondering if . . ."

"Yeah?"

Jonathan looked at the sailfish once more. "Wouldn't this make a super groovy present for the Captain?"

"Hey!" Candy looked immediately enthusiastic at her brother's idea. "Boy! Would it ever! It's perfect for him! It's kind of a sea thing, and — "

" — And I bet the Captain caught PLENTY of fish like these when he was alive!"

"And the fish is even as old as he is!" Candy said, pointing out the date again. "I just know he'd love it!"

"I think we ought to ask Claymore if he will give it to us," Jonathan said. "But we better not say why we want it. If we do, he'd probably want money for it."

Candy shook her head. "But Claymore never gives anything away," she pointed out, accurately. "Think maybe we COULD buy it from him? We have our money with us. We could give it to him right now."

"He might," Jonathan shrugged, dusting off the top of Claymore's now partially cleared desk with a rag. He hopped up and sat on the top of the desk and stared at the sailfish, still perched in Claymore's chair. "If only he doesn't want too much!"

"Still, I guess we could ask him," Candy said, an almost desperate tone coming to her voice. "This is such a perfect present for the Captain. Better than anything else we have seen. I just know he'll think it's as cool as we do. I think we should ask Claymore."

Nodding, Jonathan agreed. "Deal. Let's as him what . . ."

"What on earth is going on here?" Claymore fussed as he came in the door. He looked at his half-cleared desk, the children and then at the sailfish.

The children jumped. "Oh! Hi Mister Gregg!" Candy said. "You weren't gone long," she added, tactfully.

"Long enough, I see . . ." Claymore responded, eyeing the straightening that had been done on his desk again, the half-filled file box on the floor. "What in heaven's name have you been doing?"

"Oh," Candy hedged. "Just a . . . that is, I thought I would tidy a bit. You look like you could use some help."

"Well, uhm, thanks," Claymore said graciously. He looked at Jonathan, who was still admiring the sailfish sitting in his desk chair. "And what, pray tell, is that doing up here? It was in the cellar."

"I saw it downstairs and thought I'd . . . clean it up for you . . . Right, Candy?" Jonathan gave his sister a fast look.

"Er, that's right," Candy answered swiftly. "We brought it up here to clean it off for you."

"And what were you doing in my cellar to begin with?" the landlord demanded.

"Getting the sailfish," Jonathan responded immediately, not realizing he was talking in circles. "It's really cool, Claymore."

"That?" Claymore answered, surprised. "It's been in the family for ages. I think it was my grandfather's."

"Oh," said Jonathan. "I don't suppose you'd want to sell it, huh?"

Sensing a deal, the nervous man responded. "I might."

"Or might not?" Candy asked. "Well, never mind . . . "

"Let's not be so hasty here! What did you have in mind, exactly?" Claymore pounced on the unforeseen opportunity to make a little money.

"Well, we might want to buy it . . ." Jonathan started, then stopped, ready to bargain.

"Why?" Claymore asked. "What could you two possibly want with this old thing?"

Jonathan gave the land baron of Schooner Bay a look, deciding that saying that they wanted it for the Captain's birthday wouldn't be the greatest way to keep the price down. "Oh, just because it's cool. Don't know any other kids in the neighborhood who have one."

"But how much would you be willing to pay for it?" Claymore pressed.

"Five dollars?" Candy answered promptly; deciding starting low was the best idea. She had watched Martha dicker the same way with the butchers and bakers on her weekly grocery runs in town.

Sensing a bargain in the making, Claymore took up an insulted look. "This . . . antique? I couldn't possibly let it go for less than fifty dollars."

"No way, Claymore!" Jonathan spoke up again. "That antique parasol the Captain got for Mom was only thirty seven-fifty, and it had lace, and everything. This is just a fish!"

Claymore winced, not at all liking the Daniel Gregg's name being brought up. "Might let it go for thirty-five, maybe. That's a good deal."

Candy shook her head again and put down another stack of papers he had been straightening as the three had been talking. "Still too high." She gave her brother a look that said, _'Pick_ _up on this, Jonathan.'_ "I guess we ought to go back and see what Ollie has. I bet he has something that's better."

"Uhm, Ollie doesn't have any good stuff," Claymore argued. "And don't think of trying Deke's place either. You know what his markup is."

"I don't think they'd like you saying stuff like that about them, Claymore," Jonathan responded, understanding his sister's look. "I guess you're right, Candy."

"Do you have those insurance papers we need to give Mom, Claymore?" Candy asked, veering off the subject, mentally crossing her fingers that their landlord would be interested enough to keep negotiations going.

"What exactly is your best offer?" Claymore asked.

Facing facts, and knowing it was getting late and they really needed to start home, Jonathan answered. "Ten seventy eight."

"Not enough." Claymore shook his head again. "Why DO you want this sailfish, anyway? Truth now."

The two siblings looked at each other and sighed. "Well, we want to get it for the Captain."

Claymore flinched again at the mention of his 'great-uncle,' but sensed that the kids were in earnest.

"Why?"

"Because we figured out his real birthday — not the date you gave us, Claymore — is next month, and we want to give him this," Candy sighed, gesturing toward the sailfish again.

"Yeah," said Jonathan, nodding. "And we know he will love something like this."

"Oh," the man answered. "It's still not enough. It's an heirloom."

Disappointed, Candy put down another stack of papers she had picked up and was straightening as the three had been dickering, neatly, on the corner of the desk. In a short time, Claymore's desk was looking almost orderly. The office looked better already. "But you had it down in the basement, she pointed out. "It's not like you were really using it, or anything." She shrugged. "Well, it was just an idea," she sighed unhappily. "C'mon, Jonathan. We better get home. Mom will be wondering where we are."

Claymore looked at the point of order among the chaos, and he got an idea.

"Wait a minute, kids . . ." He stopped and took a look at the file box Candy had started. "You say you don't have any more money?"

"Nope," Jonathan answered. "Not a cent."

"And you don't have any way of getting any more?"

"Nope." Candy answered.

"Or borrow any from your mother, or Martha either, I'll bet." He gave them a crafty look. "Well, I do have another thought . . ."

Candy gave the landlord a look back, not trusting him entirely. "What?"

"How would you like to work for me after school?" Claymore asked.

"You're kidding!" Jonathan looked at the man, doubt tinging his face. "Doing what?"

"What you were doing while I was gone getting the insurance papers. A little cleaning, a little filing . . ."

The kids looked at each other.

"I'd probably only need help for a couple-three weeks or so — every day, for an hour."

"Sounds neat, Claymore," said Candy. "But Mom would never let us. We still have chores and homework and stuff. Besides, Captain Gregg . . . "

"He might get mad at you for making us work," Jonathan expanded, in case the man didn't get it.

Claymore looked alarmed, but was not entirely willing to give up the idea. "Gee . . . hadn't thought of that! What about only two or three days a week? For an hour, right after school? Couldn't you work that out?"

"Maybe . . ." Jonathan looked thoughtful.

Claymore started to look a little desperate, thinking about how much work really needed to be done in his office — not to mention his living quarters. He just wasn't the homey type. "C'mon, kids. You aren't afraid of a little honest work, are you?"

"No, it's just that . . . " Candy started.

"What, already? Don't you want to buy this sailfish, or not?"

"Yeah, we do," Jonathan said. "But . . ."

"I know!" Candy interrupted. "Why don't you call Mom and find out if we can, Claymore? I bet if you ask, Mom will let us — for maybe what you said. Like three days a week, for an hour, and that way we'd still have plenty of time to get our homework done."

"I think it would be better if YOU explained it to her," Claymore answered swiftly. "What are you going to tell the Captain?"

Jonathan shook his head again. "I dunno . . ."

"Guess we'll have to tell Mom what's really happening," Candy said thoughtfully. "That we are earning money to buy Captain Gregg's birthday present."

"Yeah," Jonathan agreed. "Bet she'll tell the Captain what we're doing, though. But maybe she can make him not peek, or bother us while we are working. We'll never be able to keep working for you a secret, Claymore."

"Yeah, guess so . . ." his sister agreed.

"So is it a deal?" Claymore asked, eagerly. "You both work for me for three weeks, three days a week? And I get your money now to seal the deal."

"TWO weeks!" Jonathan protested. "Each week — two of us for three days at an hour a day is six hours. Minimum wage is two-twenty five an hour. That would be thirteen fifty just for one week — two weeks is enough!"

"But . . ." Claymore started, then looked at the children and the fish.

"I told you before, Mister Gregg," Jonathan went on. "I may not be good at geography, but I'm REAL good at arithmetic!"

"But who said I'm paying minimum wage?" Claymore pointed out.

"You have to," said Candy. "Or we can report you to child welfare . . . or labor, or something."

"Smart-aleck," Claymore groused, but he knew when he was beat.

"You're getting off cheap, Claymore," Candy added. "That is if Mom says yes. You're getting a total of thirty-seven dollars and seventy-eight cents for the sailfish. That's a great deal."

"That's more than Ollie got for the parasol," Jonathan pointed out. "But I want a cherry pop every day while I'm working."

"Me, too," said Candy.

"That's highway robbery!" the lanky man protested.

Candy played her trump card. "We could forget the whole thing. I heard Millie Applegate saying she was looking for some part time work."

Jonathan picked up his sister's hints immediately. "Yeah — I think she said she was asking five dollars an hour."

Claymore folded. "You got it. One cherry pop for each of you each day you work, and I get both of you three days a week for two weeks. That and ten seventy-eight get you the sailfish — if your Mom says it's okay and Captain Gregg doesn't bother me."

"But no handing over our money until Mom says it's okay," Candy said shrewdly.

"But . . ." Claymore looked at the two, knowing when he'd been out negotiated. "Okay."

"Deal!" the children said together, and employer and employees shook hands.

xxxxxxxxxx

When the children finally made it home, they weren't able to get with their mother immediately on the subject of Claymore, work, or anything else. She was in the master cabin working on a new article, her door closed, which definitely meant _Do Not Disturb, _and by the time the two had finished their afternoon snack and had started their homework, Carolyn had left to stretch her legs — taking a short walk on the beach with the Captain before dinner. After dinner came baths, but much to their relief, they were able to catch their mother, alone in the living room, about twenty minutes before their scheduled bedtime. Quickly, Jonathan and Candy filled their mother in on the bargain they had made with Claymore, pending her approval.

Carolyn looked into her children's eager faces. "Kids, I admire you wanting to work to earn the money for Captain Gregg's present, but are you sure?" She looked at them doubtfully. "Work for Claymore?"

There was a quick look between Candy and Jonathan.

"Yes, Mom." Candy proclaimed. "I'm sure."

"Yes, Mom," Jonathan nodded. "Me, too. Really."

"We HAVE to earn some more money, Mom," Candy added, her blue green eyes getting bigger. "Mister Gregg has something . . . really, really great, and he agreed to sell it to us for the money we make working for him, so, please, may we? No one else has anything good enough for the Captain."

"Please?" Jonathan begged. "He gave us a good deal, and I promise, we won't ask you to help, or do anything for us . . ."

"Like that paper route we tried three months ago," Candy added.

Carolyn shuddered at the memory. "But what could possibly be worth giving up your free time in the afternoon? I don't . . ."

"It's really cool, Mom," Jonathan interrupted her. "But we don't want to tell you, or Martha, what it is. You might slip, and give away the surprise."

"Loose lips sink ships," Candy added. "It's Jonathan's and my secret birthday surprise. But we know it's perfect for the Captain. Like Martha says, 'it has his name written all over it'."

"P-l-e-e-e-e-s-e?" Jonathan asked again. "We know we can do it!"

"And I promise, if we get one bad grade, both of us will quit," declared Candy, recklessly.

"Candy!" Jonathan nudged his sister with his elbow.

"We aren't going to GET any bad grades," Candy declared stoutly.

"Then you better be ready to help me with my geography," Jonathan declared. "I'm not quite up to a 'B' in there yet."

Candy elbowed her brother back. "Jonathan just doesn't have any confidence in himself. He's not going to mess up in school — not if I have anything to say about it!" She looked at her mother again. "Please, Mom?"

"Please?" Jonathan chimed in again, and they looked up at their mother, holding their breath.

"Okay," Carolyn said slowly. "But I want you to tell me right away if Claymore starts getting too . . ."

" . . . Claymore?" Candy asked. "We promise, Mom. Right, Jonathan?"

"Right," her brother agreed. "But really, Mom, it's only for two weeks, and we really want to, and . . ."

Carolyn shrugged and then nodded her head again, and the children looked relieved and gratified at their mother's faith in them.

"Do you want me to tell the Captain about your new jobs, and Claymore and all?" Carolyn whispered, "Or do you want to do it?"

"Hmm," Candy said thoughtfully. "I guess someone should tell him."

"Yeah," Jonathan agreed. "Like I said before, it was just too hard to keep everything a surprise last November. Can you tell him, Mom? The Captain will do anything if you ask him to."

Carolyn hoped the lowered light in the living room hid her blush. "I don't know about that, Jonathan. The Captain and I have had plenty of 'discussions' about the way this house ought to be run."

"You mean arguments," Candy yawned. "About his ship! Jonathan's right, Mom. You can tell him tonight after we go to bed."

Their mother sighed. "Home. It's a home, Candy." She smiled, remembering with fondness Daniel Gregg's remarks the November before about Gull Cottage being _'a home, with a family' _and _'not a ship' _when he was trying to recant the schedule he had posted for them. "Okay. I'll tell him tonight. It's better that I tell him now and have a little tussle with him, than he finds out later and terrorizes Claymore. But listen: Two weeks and no more! I don't think I can take more than two weeks of you working for Claymore OR the Captain 'blasting' about it." She kissed them each on the top of the head. "Now go brush your teeth. The Captain and I will meet you upstairs and tuck you in, in a few minutes, okay?"

"Okay, Mom," the two said together, and headed for the stairs.

xxxxxxxxxx

Carolyn broke the news to the Captain that night over a late glass of Madeira in the wheelhouse — the location suggested by her. If the spirit 'blasted' all over the place, as Jonathan liked to say, at least the rumbles wouldn't wake up her children.

"They're doing WHAT?" he roared, a hint of thunder cracking in the distance.

"I told you," Carolyn started. "Please, don't thunder. They're going to be working for Claymore after school, helping him clean up his office, and with his filing. He's trying to get things together for his tax deadline. That's only a few weeks away and Claymore is trying to think ahead for a change. Actually, I need to get started on mine, too! But you know his office. It's always a disaster."

Daniel shook his head. "Not work for Claymore. Not Candy and Jonathan. It's unthinkable."

"It's only for two weeks," Carolyn protested. "Three days a week, an hour a day, right after school."

"I won't allow it . . ." Daniel growled. "That nickel-nursing scoundrel will run them ragged!"

"I told them as long as their grades don't suffer and they don't exhaust themselves, I WOULD allow it," Carolyn said quietly.

"Dear Lady, no — anyone but Claymore," the seaman protested. "Why not at Deke's? Or at the drugstore? Selling lemonade? Washing cars? Anything but working for that blasted Scrooge, Claymore! I absolutely forbid it!"

The back of Carolyn's neck bristled at the word **'forbid.' **That word hadn't escaped his lips in relation to the children or her for a long time. "DANIEL . . ." She deliberately used the seaman's first name, wondering how she dared. The spirit looked at the beautiful woman in front of him, joy in his heart. Never, in two years, had the woman he adored spoken to him using his given name. Startled, he stopped his harangue and stared at her. Carolyn stopped speaking, seeing she truly had the seaman's attention, and thought carefully about what she was going to say next, and carefully, she continued. "Candy and Jonathan are earning money for your birthday present."

Touched, yet unbelieving, he responded. "They're doing what?"

"I told you," Carolyn said softly. "They're earning money to buy you a birthday present."

"Madam, I can't allow them to . . ."

"Captain . . ." She started again, reverting to his title. "Please. It would hurt them dreadfully if you raise a fuss and tell them they can't do this for you."

"But . . ." he said helplessly. "I'm just a spirit. I don't need anything."

Carolyn smiled. "Hardly 'just,' and that was our problem last November, too. What to give the man who has nothing, and can't use anything. But obviously they have found something, and they want to earn the money to buy it and give it to you for your birthday, and I don't think you should stop them."

"Candy and Jonathan working for Claymore, is the best birthday present I could ever receive . . . " the seaman said gruffly, touched beyond measure.

"Then take it that way," she said softly. "But don't spoil this for them."

"I won't," he said, resigned, and he picked up his glass of Madeira, and took a sip. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "Uhm . . . you don't know what I am getting, do you?"

Carolyn smiled. "I haven't a clue. They wouldn't tell me. They said they could keep the secret better if only the two of them know about it." She looked at the glimmer in the spirit's eye. "And don't you dare go down there and peek, either. I want your promise, Captain."

"All right . . . Carolyn . . ." he agreed gently, the sound of his velvety voice and her name on his lips for the first time since her parent's anniversary putting a pleasant shiver up her spine. "Two weeks, but not one minute longer!"

**April 1, 1970**

True to their word, during the next two weeks, Candy and Jonathan reported to Claymore's office for work every Monday, Wednesday and Friday afternoon after school. Also, as pledged, during their employ, the children kept their grades up. In fact, Carolyn noted with a certain amount of amusement, that their grades actually improved slightly — Jonathan's geography class for example. She attributed the improvement to two factors: that the children were trying doubly hard not to do badly in school so they could continue working, and that the fact that they were helping each other more than they ever had before where homework was concerned.

Some days they came home more tired than usual, and always ravenous — even after taking an extra snack with them to eat at Claymore's. Carolyn asked them several times during the two weeks if Claymore was treating them well, but the two never complained — except once. Not because Claymore was acting up, but because they said they 'felt' the Captain nearby. He had denied it, of course, but the subject did not come up again.

The last day they worked, Candy and Jonathan arrived home still later than usual, explaining that they had walked their bikes home as they were unable to pedal and carry the Captain's gift — now wrapped in a large amount of brown paper.

"We wrapped it really well so the Captain can't peek," Jonathan explained, brother and sister carrying the huge parcel into the living room. "Where is he, Mom?"

"Up in the attic, updating his logs, I think, Jonathan. He said he would be down a bit later. Why?"

"Because we want to get his present upstairs before he can guess what it is," Candy explained. "Mom? Martha? Can you tell what it is by the way we wrapped it?"

Carolyn shook her head. "I haven't an idea in the world," she answered. "That's a lot of paper you used, there. It could be anything."

"Not even a ghost could see through THAT much covering!" Martha laughed, giving the package a poke.

"Would you like some help wrapping it up in birthday paper?" Carolyn asked her children, staring at the huge package, curiously, already anticipating their answer.

"No, thanks," Candy grinned. "We've gone this far. We want to do the wrapping and stuff, too. That is, if you have some paper and tape we can use."

Carolyn nodded.

"What about a birthday card?" Martha asked. "Did you make enough money for a card, too?"

Candy shook her head. "No — Jonathan and I forgot all about it until day before yesterday. So I made the Captain one in art class, but Jonathan helped me decide what it should say and how it's decorated and all."

"We would have rather bought a card," Jonathan said, his eyes getting big. "We wanted everything to be perfect."

"But we figured we better quit while we were ahead," Candy grinned. "That would have meant more time working for Claymore, and he was out of stuff for us to do and we were definitely ready to stop working for him!"

"He was finally starting to get on your nerves, huh?" Martha chuckled.

"He started using my last nerve the day before yesterday," Candy pushed a lock of hair out of her face.

"But we finished. We said we would, and we did!" Jonathan added. "And with a week to spare! But it was harder than I thought it would be."

"Not the work — Claymore," Candy added.

The housekeeper chuckled again and turned to her employer. "Claymore's office looks fantastic. I couldn't help myself, Mrs. Muir. Yesterday evening when Ed took me to the twilight movie show, I peeked in Claymore's office window. The blinds weren't quite closed. The place is absolutely immaculate. Candy and Jonathan did a fantastic job. You'd swear Claymore had had vacated the place, if it weren't for his car parked out in front. Ed said he's never seen it look that good. You need to make any kind of excuse you can to get down there before it turns into a disaster area again."

"You should, Mom," Jonathan nodded. "It does look nice, and his actual apartment, or whatever you call it, looks great, too."

"Probably won't stay that way, either," Candy guessed. "Or all his files! Those were the hardest to do. I finally gave up, pulled everything out and started over again, and when I got finished, I actually had empty file folders left over! I think the only papers Jonathan and I haven't touched are the ones in the safe." She gave her brother a weary look. "But it is really neat-looking now, and Claymore said he would try to do better."

"And you know what?" Jonathan demanded, giving his mother a quick hug. "Working for him really makes me appreciate living in Gull Cottage and you and Martha more."

"Why?" the two adults asked together.

"Because cleaning for Claymore makes our Saturday chores seem simple, Mom," Candy answered. "And we, well, we sort of realized how much Martha does around here — and you, too."

"Right." Jonathan nodded. "I'll never complain about chores again."

"Never say never," Martha commented. "But it's nice to know I'm appreciated."

"I know I appreciate you, Martha," Carolyn added. She glanced thoughtfully at her two tired-looking children. "Have you started dinner yet?"

The housekeeper shook her head. "No — I was just about to, though."

"I think we'll forgo tuna-fish casserole this once," Carolyn smiled. "Kids, early dinner out tonight, in honor of your last day with Claymore."

"But it's a weeknight," Jonathan pointed out. "We almost never get to eat out on a weeknight — unless relatives are in town."

"Shh, Jonathan," his sister admonished him, and looked at her mother, not about to turn down the offer. "There's a new pizza place in town, just opened — where the diner used to be. Could we go there?"

Carolyn nodded. "Take the Captain's present up to your room, and get it out of the way, and I'm ready any time you are."

"Yay!" her children shouted, and headed to the stairs with the Captain's gift.

**xxxxxxxxxx**

The next week passed by slowly for everyone in Gull Cottage, both human and spirit. Everyone's birthday gifts were safely wrapped and stored by their various givers, and Candy and Jonathan had received a few side benefits from their two weeks of employment with Claymore Gregg. Everyone in town wanted to congratulate them on a job-well-done, and the other local merchants were very interested to know how the children had extracted 'payment' from him so quickly. The siblings had received several other offers for the same kind of work from other shop owners in town, and, as Carolyn had already observed, their grades had improved.

A special Social Studies project had kept Candy busy for the rest of the week following April first, and into the next, so Jonathan and Captain Gregg had a little extra time to fish, and do other 'guy things,' as Jonathan said, and catch up. Jonathan, with some amusement, did tell his mother later that his hero was 'busting' to know what his birthday surprise might be, and had dropped several large hints on the subject.

On the home front, Carolyn Muir finished a feature article that the _Fisherman's Quarterly _had assigned to her, and the ghost and the lady of Gull Cottage had also managed to get the first draft of two new chapters done on the _Memoirs of Captain Daniel Gregg_.

Finally, Wednesday, April eighth dawned bright and clear. Much to the seaman's surprise, when he popped into the kitchen, that morning, the only thing he found in the way of a birthday surprise was a new coffee mug with his name on it on the rack next to Carolyn and Martha's mugs, and the children's favorite hot cocoa mugs.

The family wished him a hearty "Happy Birthday," and then made a dive for Martha's cinnamon rolls, baked especially for the occasion, and Carolyn filled his new cup to the top with a marvelous smelling brew. "It's an Irish coffee blend," Carolyn said, taking a deep sniff. "Mom just sent it to me. Dad had to take a trip there on business last month and he brought some back. Doesn't it smell great?"

"Indeed, so," the seaman had replied. "If this treat is the beginning of what you have planned, I can hardly wait to see what comes next."

"It IS only the beginning, and you will be learning what in just a bit," Carolyn replied. "I need to get the children off to school first."

"Still think the Captain would have a better birthday if we could stay home, too," Jonathan remarked.

"Yeah," Candy agreed. "I got to stay home on MY birthday last year."

"If Candy should, than I should," Jonathan maintained. "That's fair. Then we could all have a picnic, and everything."

"Nice try, partner," Carolyn grinned. "Candy's birthday was on a Sunday. She got her birthday blessing at church, ON her birthday, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," the boy said ruefully. "I did kind of forget, I guess. So — school?" He turned to the seaman. "And then your birthday when we get home? I'm not sure how much longer I can wait."

"The Captain has been waiting longer," Candy pointed out.

"But he's had — " Jonathan broke off, and glanced at his sister. "Oh, I see." Then he turned to Daniel Gregg and gave him an apologetic look. "I guess you have been waiting a long time for a party, huh, Captain?"

"It has been quite a while, Jonathan," the seafarer smiled. "But if this morning is any hint, I believe it has all been well worth the wait."

**xxxxxxxxxx**

The children were appeased by not getting the day off when Carolyn offered them a drive into town instead of taking the bus or riding their bikes, and to their delight, she also suggested that the Captain come along for the short drive. The spirit had agreed.

"So, back home again, and straight to the typewriter?" the seaman said, after waving goodbye to the children, unseen, naturally, by any of their schoolmates. "Rather a shame. It's a beautiful day."

"I don't think so," Carolyn smiled, and continued driving. "I do believe I will Shanghai you, Captain Gregg."

The seaman looked amused. "Shanghai me? And how, precisely, do you plan on doing that, my good woman? I don't believe you can exactly knock me out and stash me below decks."

Instead of turning right and heading back up the winding dirt road to Gull Cottage, Carolyn turned left and headed north on the main road out of Schooner Bay. "Oh, I just thought we'd take a nice drive, see what there is to see, Captain," she said, mysteriously, and turned on the radio to a station playing classical music. "It's a good day to get away, don't you think?" She rolled down the car window and asked him to do the same and he watched the wind whip through her hair. "That's more like it," she sighed. "Yes, this is a perfect day for relaxing and having fun. I certainly don't want to be cooped up in front of a typewriter today!"

"Agreed, it's a wonderful day," Daniel said. "Now tell me what else you have planned for me."

"Just a drive, at the moment, but there could be something else, if you behave yourself." Carolyn smiled. "But if you don't mind, could you make yourself seeable and hearable to everyone when we hit the city limits? I really don't want any passing motorist, or policeman to think I am talking to myself."

Daniel Gregg smiled and the thought of the beautiful woman beside him being thought of as daft. There was a shimmering around him, and suddenly he was there again, clad in an open necked white shirt, black pants, and freshly polished boots.

"I am now seeable and hearable to all," he said, and smiled as the car swerved slightly, for no reason at all other than the fact that Carolyn was staring at him instead of the road.

"You look . . ."

"Magnificent?" he grinned, wickedly.

"I'm not sure I'd say that . . ." she murmured. "Well, actually, yes I would. You look wonderful, Captain. And if you wear that outfit every time you want to make yourself known to the general public, I am really going to have to find a way for you to do it more often."

"I could arrange to wear it again, regardless," he said quietly. "I am not landlocked into appearing only in my uniform or the attire you usually see me in."

"Then why is that all I ever see you wear?" Carolyn asked as she eased the car onto the highway, and increased her speed.

"I don't know," he said, honestly. "I suppose I just don't think about changing my clothes. There's no reason to, you know." Suddenly, he looked edgy. "Are you sure we are supposed to be moving this rapidly?"

Carolyn realized, amused, that he was not at all at ease inside the car. "Positive," she smiled. "Now relax, and no more back seat driving, even from the front seat. We'll be on the road for at least another hour."

"To where?" he said tensely. "I wouldn't want you to drive on this terrible road that long, just on my account."

"It's not a terrible road, we're past rush hour, and the traffic is really quite light," she retorted, lightly. "Now relax, Captain. Part my birthday present to you is this lovely drive, and you aren't enjoying it. Trust me. I do know what I am doing. This is one wheel I DO know how to handle."

"Point taken, Dear Lady." The mariner took a deep 'breath,' counted to ten slowly and silently, and started to relax. He surveyed the passing scenery for a few moments, then asked: "Now, my dear, would you mind telling me where we are going?"

"Okay." She looked pleased with herself. "It just so happens that the Maine Maritime Museum is located in the town of Bath, and that's where we are headed. They're hosting a special exhibit there this month. I found out about it a few weeks ago. It's supposed to be quite a show, and I thought you might enjoy it."

"My dear, any day in your company is a day to be enjoyed."

**xxxxxxxxxx**

It HAD been a lovely day, and the exhibit was indeed fascinating. After a quick lunch in a nearby restaurant and a little more time spent seeing what else the museum had to offer beyond the special showing, Carolyn and the Captain made the drive back to Schooner Bay, arriving at the school just in time to pick up Candy and Jonathan.

Once back at Gull Cottage, the children flew through their homework, then Candy said that since Jonathan had kept the Captain "all to himself" when she was busy with her school project earlier in the week, it was her turn to spend some time with him. She maintained that a game of beach volleyball was in order, and that the seaman needed to come with her immediately.

When Jonathan didn't fuss about the arrangement, actually volunteering to stay behind and "help Martha," Daniel knew that the family was conspiring to get him out of the house so they could finish preparing their birthday surprises. The two left, and when they returned an hour later, everything was ready.

"Happy Birthday, Captain Gregg!" The family met him at the door and led him into the kitchen for dinner, tooting out _Pomp and Circumstance_ on homemade kazoos.

Martha's company special, Lobster Newburg, was served, along with asparagus tips and homemade rolls. The adults lingered over coffee and brandy for a bit, just chatting, until finally Jonathan burst out: "Golly, Captain! Aren't you in a hurry to get to your presents at all? I am!"

"Me, too," Candy added. "I don't understand why grownups take everything so SLOW!"

"Me, either," Jonathan agreed. "If this were MY birthday, my presents would be open by now."

"Exactly why mine aren't." The Captain smiled. "Today has been marvelous and I am in no hurry for it to end. Therefore I am taking my time and making it last."

"You could take your time later, Captain," Jonathan said, giving him an eager look. "You can stay up late, but we have school tomorrow . . . "

" . . . So we need to get started," Candy said. "We have everything waiting for you in the living room."

"Except for the cake." Jonathan nodded at a covered cake holder on the drain board. "It's over there. But we — I mean you don't get any until you open your presents."

"W-e-l-l . . ." the Captain titillated them, drawing out the word. "I should be ready after one more cup of . . ."

"ARGGG!" the children said together. Both of them truly looked as if they were being stopped from opening their own birthday gifts.

"Avast there, mates!" the Captain grinned. "I'm just teasing you." He looked at Carolyn and Martha. "I do believe I am ready. Shall we, ladies?"

**xxxxxxxxxx**

"You get the seat of honor, Captain," said Candy, motioning him toward the couch. "Mom, you sit here." She pointed toward a vacant spot on one side of the seaman. "Martha, you take the rocker, Jonathan, you sit on the other side of the Captain."

"What about you?" the Captain asked.

"I'm keeping order," she responded.

"Bossing, more like it," Jonathan muttered.

"Keeping ORDER," the little girl emphasized. "I'm sitting here in the wing chair and handing out presents, and later, Jonathan, you and I are bringing in the cake."

"But your mother and I are lighting the candles," Martha said. "We'll do that in here. Too many to try and light in the kitchen and carry in."

"Right," Carolyn nodded. "The Captain will just have to promise not to look before we say he can."

"Too bad we can't blindfold you, Captain," Jonathan added. "I think it would be neat if just once a year you could be solid so we could all give you a birthday hug and kiss, like we all get on our birthdays — wouldn't that be great, Mom?"

Carolyn's could feel her cheeks turning red. "It would be wonderful, Jonathan," she said softly. "But sometimes, the things we want most just can't come true."

"I guess not," the boy sighed, and looked pensive for a moment. "But maybe some day. I know!" His face brightened. "You can make it your birthday wish, Captain! And if you blow out all the candles, this year, maybe it will happen by your birthday next year. Just don't tell anybody that's what you are wishing for."

"Out of the mouths of babes," Martha muttered in a low voice.

The ghost tugged his ear and shot a quick look at the housekeeper, and then snuck a peek at Carolyn, whose cheeks were still bright red. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to try, Jonathan. When it comes time to blow out the candles on my cake. I will certainly do my best."

"Mom?" Candy asked. "Jonathan and I want the Captain to open ours last, because it's the biggest. Is that okay?"

"It's fine with me if it's okay with him," Carolyn smiled. "So, who's first?"

"Martha's," Candy decided, handing the seaman a medium sized cylindrical shaped package wrapped in red paper. "I've been wondering what it is."

Drawing the process out as long as possible, Captain Gregg shook the package gently as he held it up to his ear.

"What on earth are you doing?" Candy asked.

"Listening."

"Listening?" Jonathan asked, confused. "To what?"

"Listening to my present. Enjoying the sound it's making. And unless I very much miss my guess . . ." Quickly, he ripped off the paper and looked very pleased. "Pipe tobacco! Pembrooke! Excellent!" He gave the housekeeper a grateful look. "Thank you so much, Martha. I haven't had access to good pipe tobacco in ages. What on earth made you think of it?"

"I noticed you keep a pipe with you, Captain," Martha explained. "A Meerschaum, no less, but I have never seen you smoke it — or smelled pipe tobacco, either," Martha grinned. "Just those smelly cigars of yours. I decided if I was going to smell tobacco occasionally, it would be good tobacco. Besides, if I know a certain sea captain like I think I am starting to know him, I figured he would appreciate a pipe. So I was right, Captain? I could always exchange . . ."

"Over my dead body!"

"Captain, you're . . ."

"I know, but you get my point, and I'm too happy to even go irritate Claymore, even if he didn't attend the party tonight." The spirit turned to Carolyn. "Why didn't he come, Dear Lady?"

Carolyn shrugged. "I have no idea. I, well really, I hadn't thought to ask him, but he did know about it. Kids?" She looked at her children.

"Claymore said the best present he could give you was not bother you," said Candy. "So he told us to tell you happy birthday, and salutations and all that, and said he was sure he would be seeing you soon."

"He has a fair point," Daniel grinned. "A very sound idea. I must remember to thank him." He turned back to the table and looked at the remaining present.

"Open Mom's present next, Captain," Jonathan said. "She wouldn't tell us what she got you, and I've been waiting to find out."

Slowly the seaman peeled back the paper and opened the embossed volume in front of him.

"What is it?" Candy asked. "It looks like a book, but I don't see a name."

"Kinda bigger than other books I've seen, too," Jonathan pointed out. "What is the book, Captain?"

"It's a logbook," the Captain said quietly. "Bound and embossed as mine are, but yet newer than the ones from my time. See the gold leaf on the edge! Most unusual. I love it." He turned to Carolyn, who was smiling, and looking relieved.

"You really like it, Captain?" she asked. "Not quite like your old ones, but I thought perhaps it would do."

"More than just "do," my dear. It's stunning. Absolutely stunning." Then touched the tin of tobacco again. "Whatever made you both think of such lovely presents? So basic, yet always needed."

"A little more useful than earmuffs and blindfolds?" Carolyn smiled. "I'm glad the logbook meets with your approval. I found it at a little antique shop in Pripet that specializes in nautical items, and I remembered you saying you were almost out of paper in your other one. But to answer your question, it was sort of dumb luck, really. I just stumbled into it and thought it might be right for you. I'm not a good present shopper — especially for men. Besides, I think the men who wrote the Bible omitted a line of Genesis three, in which the curses are handed out after the fall: Something on the order of: _'And men's gifts shall be impossible for women to figure out how to purchase, for all time'."_

"I think I could add a few more to that list," Martha laughed. "Just let me get a piece of paper!"

"I'll give you two MY list in the morning," the seaman retorted, smiling. "I can think of a few also."

"Oh, I did buy a new bottle of Madeira," Carolyn added. "Perhaps we can find time for a birthday toast later."

"My pleasure, my dear," Daniel replied.

Candy stood up. "Okay, Captain! Now it's Jonathan's and my turn to give you something! Now close your eyes until we bring it out!"

"I still can't believe you worked for Claymore Gregg for two weeks just to buy me a birthday present!" The spirit said, and obediently he closed his eyes. Both the children were gone in a flash, but back a few minutes later bearing the large package that they had brought back from town the week before — now wrapped in three different kinds of birthday paper, and bedecked with several bows, and a card.

"Open the card, first," said Jonathan. "Candy made it, but I helped decide what should go on it and we both wrote what's inside."

Carolyn watched as the Captain opened the card — did his hand tremble a bit? On the front of the card was a carefully drawn lighthouse, with a ship in the distance. "Light" shone from the lighthouse, on the little ship. Inside, the card read:

_**Love is the best thing that happens between a father and his children.**_

_**A father teaches his kids everything he knows,**_

_**Because he needs to pass on part of who he is and because he loves them.**_

_**Thank you for being born, Captain, And for teaching us things you know.**_

_**And for being there for us when we need you to be.**_

_**Our family wouldn't be the same without you here.**_

_**Thank you for being you. We love you, Captain**_

_**Love, Candy and Jonathan.**_

"Oh, children . . ." the spirit stopped, not quite trusting himself to speak without his voice cracking. "This is — your card. It's beautiful. Thank you so much."

Carolyn's heart ached, knowing how much he wanted to be able to hug them, and couldn't.

"Now, the present!" said Jonathan. "I'm the one who found it, Captain!"

"But we BOTH knew it was just perfect for you," Candy interjected.

Carefully, Daniel Gregg began tearing off the yards of paper, finally uncovering the gift. Wrong side up. Turning it over, he stared for a moment at what was in front of him.

"Oh . . . my," he said softly. "I can't believe you have given this . . . to me!" He looked at the children's smiles. "This sailfish brings back many memories, to be sure. Isn't it striking! What an eye-catcher! What an impression it will make on those who see it!"

"We knew you'd love it, Captain!" Candy beamed. "The minute we saw it, we knew it was just right for you."

"Candy, Jonathan," the Captain gave them a broad smile. "I have never been so moved by a gift before, and no one, in all my life or after has ever given me a gift that has meant more to me." He looked at the card again, and then the fish, and then at their shining faces.

"Jonathan and I can help you hang it, Captain." Candy went on. "Right now, if you want! We were thinking in the alcove would be nice, because then you can look at every day when you're working on your sea charts and stuff."

"I dunno, Candy," Jonathan said. "The alcove is good, but now I think the living room would be better. If we move a couple of things around, it could hang right here," he pointed. "By the Captain's portrait!"

The mariner glanced at Carolyn and Martha, who, unseen, by the children, were giving each other alarmed looks. "Oh . . . no, no," he answered them, holding on tightly to the fish. "I must have it in the alcove, with me. I want to be able to . . . see it every day."

"So can we hang it now?" Jonathan demanded. "We want to see how it looks. On the wall, I mean."

"I think that ought to wait until tomorrow, children," the Captain said quickly. "It's getting late, and there is school tomorrow. Besides . . ." He turned to Martha. "If I am not mistaken, you will have to get a special hanger for it. Am I not right, Martha?"

Martha nodded. "Yes, if you want to make sure it doesn't fall off the wall in the middle of the night, or something. The Captain's right, kids. Cake is the next order of business."

"And ice cream," Jonathan added. "Come on, Candy, Mom . . . Everyone has to help. Captain, you stay right here, and when we tell you to, close your eyes, and we'll come in, okay?"

"And no peeking!" Candy added.

"I promise," the spirit nodded, tucking his card in his pocket.

"Captain, while you are waiting for us, can you move your, uhm, present somewhere?" Carolyn asked, staring at the fish. "We wouldn't want to get any cake on it, or anything."

"But I want to look at some more!" Jonathan protested.

Daniel could have sworn he heard a faintly muttered "why?" from Martha Grant, but when he glanced at her, her face was placid. And then she started moving toward the kitchen, Candy following.

"I'll do that, my dear," he replied, and levitated the object over to the window seat, propping it up against the bottom.

A few minutes later, the Captain heard them all calling from the kitchen. "We're ready, Captain! Close your eyes!" In the crew marched — Martha carried the cake, Carolyn her good china dessert plates, Jonathan forks and spoons, and Candy the ice cream.

He listened as they all seated themselves, and he heard the cake platter being put on the coffee table in front of him. "May I look yet?" he asked. His voice sounded eager.

"Not yet, Captain," Martha answered, lighting a match and then Carolyn doing the same. "We still have all these candles to light." Finally they were ready.

"Open your eyes!" they all caroled, and started to sing happy birthday.

Opening his eyes, the seaman beheld a very large cake, covered with glowing candles — and to the right, a carton of Double Dutch chocolate ice cream.

"Blow out the candles, Captain!" Candy and Jonathan said together.

Without thinking, the spirit did just that. All forty-five of them at one go.

"You get your wish! You get your wish!" Jonathan cried. "Boy! Now I can't wait until next year!"

"We'll see, Jonathan," the Captain smiled. "Not all wishes come true, you know."

"How did you do that, anyway?" Martha queried after the Captain made the traditional first slice for good luck. "I didn't know that ghosts could do . . ."

"I don't know, really." The Captain shrugged. "Perhaps my spectral fraternity gave me a special treat for my birthday?" He looked thoughtful. "Or maybe I have ghost powers I didn't know I had. After all, I haven't had reason to blow candles on a cake in more than a hundred years."

"Yeah, and last November we only gave you one candle and you pinched it out," Candy added.

"He didn't want to scare Claymore," Carolyn explained for Martha's benefit.

"I bet you could do it all the time and didn't know it," said Jonathan.

"I honestly don't know," the Captain maintained, "But I have decided I'm not going to question it. The cake looks marvelous, Martha!" he added, taking a bite. "And it tastes fabulous too! What kind is it?"

"My Aunt Belle's favorite recipe, Captain. I lost the recipe ages ago and had almost forgotten about it. When I was in Florida, visiting mother, right after I found out about you, she gave it to me again. It's the way the icing and cake 'fudge' together, I think. Turns it all candy-like. I'm glad your birthday was the first celebration to use it."

The spirit looked deeply affected. "I thank you, Martha." He looked around the room. "I thank all of you. Today has been a wonderful day."

**xxxxxxxxxx**

Sadly, even the best of days can't last forever.

Shortly after, under protest, bedtime was mandated, and Carolyn and the Captain finally managed to get Candy and Jonathan tucked in — as excited as they still were about the success of their present to their hero, and the party that followed. As the two adults reached the door and exited the children's room, the Captain excused himself, saying he would meet Carolyn and Martha downstairs in a few minutes, and disappeared.

A few seconds later, he was up on the widow's-walk, looking at the stars and thinking about his day. It had all been so perfect — except. Nodding his head resolutely, he dematerialized from the walk and rematerialized behind Martha and Carolyn, now in the alcove, where they were shaking their heads and staring at the sailfish.

"Well, maybe if we hang a fish net over it, it won't look quite so . . . fishy," Martha was saying.

"It is . . . something, isn't it?" Carolyn asked her friend. "Not at all your typical birthday present! Thanks for moving it in here, Martha."

"I'll wait until Candy and Jonathan get home from school tomorrow and we can hang it," the seaman said. "There's an open wall for it right there." He pointed.

Carolyn and Martha each caught the other's eye for a split second. Was the Captain serious? Could he really like it?

"I hope you don't mind it finding a home in the alcove for a while." He looked apologetic. "I don't think I can get away with hanging it in the wheelhouse."

Relieved, the two women looked at each other again. Good. He did know what a . . . white elephant it was.

"Well, we can't throw it back . . . " Martha said, chuckling again. "Mrs. Muir, I think I know where we can find a bulldog hanger for it. I'll look for it tomorrow." Giving the fish one last look, and one more grin, the housekeeper said goodnight one final time and headed to her bedroom.

Carolyn turned to the spirit. "Well, Captain. Are you ready for that nightcap now?"

Looking at his present once more, the spirit nodded. "I would like that very much, my dear."

"Can you give me about ten minutes?" she asked. "I'd like to change — get a bit more comfortable. Meet me in the master cabin?"

"Ten minutes, Dear Lady. I'm looking forward to it."

**xxxxxxxxx**

The Captain appeared in the main cabin, as promised, ten minutes later, with what could only be described as a "face on his face," as Jonathan liked to say. Stifling a giggle, Carolyn asked the seaman to sit, and keeping a sober countenance, she produced the Madeira she bought earlier in the week, poured it into crystal wineglasses and made a birthday toast: _"In remembrance of beautiful yesterdays and anticipation of lovelier tomorrows," _she said, her green eyes glowing.

_"Salute',"_ he answered, and drank. They sat in silence for a few minutes, each thinking their own thoughts. Twice, the spirit looked like he was about to say something, and twice, he stopped speaking before he started.

Finally, Carolyn spoke. "You look a little . . . preoccupied, Daniel . . . " she started "Need to let off a little steam?"

"Hearing my Christian name from your lips once more is a birthday present indeed, Dear Lady, but . . ."

"I'm glad you don't mind," she said. "I've been calling you 'Daniel' at least to myself, since my parent's anniversary."

"Actually, I prefer it, Carolyn." A pink came to her cheeks as he called her by name, then he continued. "My dear, I find myself in something of a dilemma . . ."

"Daniel . . ." she began gently. "You don't have to tell me. I know you're not nuts about the . . ."

"No, Carolyn, it's not that. Please, let me continue." Carolyn nodded and took another sip from her glass. "I think you should know that scoundrel Claymore has sold your children something that was mine to begin with."

"That sailfish? It was once yours? Oh. And Claymore ended up with it. I'm sorry. Legally, it was his to sell, Captain . . ."

"That is not the point, my dear. It's just that . . . "

"What is the point, exactly?"

"The point is, a former commander of mine, Admiral Morgan, gave me that fish as a birthday present back in eighteen sixty-five."

"Oh, I see, so it's not that you don't like the fish, it's that Claymore . . ."

"Please, my dear, let me go on. Actually, it's exactly the opposite. I despised the blasted thing the moment Admiral Morgan gave it to me. I can't imagine WHAT he was thinking of . . . his taste in gifts was usually excellent. He gave me my chart rack only two years before."

Carolyn nodded. "I see. I am sorry, Daniel. I gave away your chart rack, which you loved, and haven't been able to find again, and now the fish you despise, also given as a gift, has come back to haunt you. It's a bit ironic."

"Strange, I suppose, that a seaman like myself doesn't want a dead fish hanging on his living room wall?"

"No . . . quite understandable, Daniel. I find no beauty in stuffed deer or moose heads, either. Ralph Muir, on the other hand, has two at his home in Philadelphia. Bleach! That's another reason I really don't want Jonathan going to school at Dexter Academy and living with his grandparents. I'm not crazy about Ralph's influence."

"Me either," the seaman agreed. "Anyway. I couldn't hurt the Admiral's feelings — tell him I didn't like the blasted thing, so I kept it displayed at Gull Cottage. Then when the Admiral died in eighteen sixty-six, I took it down, and stashed it in the wheelhouse. Actually forgot the blasted thing. I had planned on getting rid of it, but . . . time went by, and one stormy night I . . ."

" . . . Kicked the blasted heater with your blasted foot and — "

"Quite."

"So tell me, how did Claymore end up with the fish?"

"Claymore's grandfather, Angus, plundered my household, shortly after my death, absconding with everything from my Georgian silver to my old harpoons. He had managed to prove himself a legal heir. I'm afraid the events then are a bit hazy. My powers weren't at all developed back then. I wasn't able to get out, move about, find out things as I can now, and I couldn't stop anyone from trespassing then." He gave Carolyn a wry smile. "Only in the case of that fish, I wouldn't have anyway, except on principle. I only remember I was delighted, and somewhat amused that he took it."

"And now it's come back."

"But I feel terrible that I . . ."

"That you didn't tell the children exactly how you felt about the sailfish, or it's history?"

"Yes. Was that a lie?" He sighed. "Well, it's too late to do anything about it now, I suppose."

"Daniel, what you did, or didn't say, wasn't a lie."

The spirit's face brightened. "I did mean it when I said, to the children — that I was moved by what they had done to get it for me. Working for Claymore!" He shook his head. "And really, no gift has ever meant more to me, and . . ."

"I knew how you felt, Daniel. It was written all over your face."

" . . . And that wonderful card . . . Do you think they have any idea that I didn't . . ."

"Oh, Daniel . . . " She grinned. "You did very well at covering. I don't believe they suspect a thing. You looked like you were being given a king's treasure."

The spirit gave a sigh of relief. "Good. I couldn't have them knowing, you know, I've just never come up against anything quite like this. Those two . . ." He broke off and took another sip from his wineglass and stared into its amber depths. " . . . But I did think that you should know the truth."

"Thank you, Daniel." She smiled. "But as I said, I had kind of guessed. Martha did too."

"Females!" he smiled. "I can live with the blasted thing in the alcove, I suppose, if I must, as I did a hundred years ago, but I really don't want it in the living room."

"Perish the thought," Carolyn answered. "I think the kids will be happy with it in the alcove, Daniel. You work on your sea charts in there. It's almost like your den. If you can live with it in there for a while, that is."

"Carolyn, how LONG a while?"

She smiled again. "Well, that kind of depends. Based on personal experience, I'd say you are stuck with it for at least a year."

"Blast." He looked resigned. "I suppose I can live . . . or in my case, not live with it." They sipped their Madeira for a moment in silence. "Carolyn . . . what did you mean when you said: 'personal experience'?"

Carolyn placed her glass on the low table next to the divan and gave the spirit a big smile. "Welcome to parenthood, Daniel."

"Parenthood?" The seaman seemed totally confused. "Madam, I assure you, I have not . . ."

"Shush. I mean parenthood only in the figurative sense, not the literal. I just mean you aren't the first . . . person to get an unexpected present from a child."

"I don't understand."

"I mean tonight, with your birthday, and that monstrosity downstairs, you . . . well, I think it would be better if I just SHOW you what I mean."

Quietly and deliberately, Carolyn went to the closet, and, standing on a straight chair, reached up and pulled down a medium-sized cardboard box. She wrestled with it a bit, awkwardly holding it in her arms. Taking his cue, Daniel levitated the box out of her arms and over to the floor in front of the low table set up in front of the couch where they were sitting.

"Thank you, Daniel."

"You're welcome, Carolyn. Now what exactly do you have here?" he asked, eyeing the box.

Carolyn seated herself on the divan again, next to the sea captain. He gave her an inquiring look; searching her face for a clue as to what could come next — not quite sure he was up to any more birthday presents.

Not answering immediately, Carolyn opened the top of the box and began lifting items out of the box and carefully placed them on the table near their wineglasses. Slowly the table was filled with an odd assortment of . . . well; there was just no other word for it . . . junk.

Slowly Daniel picked up the items on the table and examined them. A large glass jug stuffed to the brim with marbles and rocks. A set of very limply sewn together potholders with burn marks on them that looked like early thrift shop. A loud tie-dyed T-shirt. A troll doll. A pair of hot pink high heels, size five. A Kleenex holder — the head of a garish clown, with one tired Kleenex sprouting from the top of the clown's head. Several small stuffed animals. A set of bookends that looked like what they were — painted bricks. A large candy dish, or possibly an ashtray, amber colored. One pair of toe socks, striped, obviously never worn. Two vases, milk glass, looking exactly the same as bathroom . . . porcelain. Last, but definitely not least, he examined a cheap-looking blown glass swan, also pink — mounted on a round mirror, now scratched on the bottom, sitting in the middle of a tired-looking ring of fiberglass spires that looked like at one point they might have been flowers.

He looked at Carolyn, amused. "Madam, what is all of this?"

"Treasures . . ." Carolyn said, quietly.

"Uhm . . . Treasures?" he asked, obviously trying to keep a straight face.

She nodded firmly. "Treasures, Daniel. To me, anyway. These are all gifts that Candy or Jonathan or both have bestowed on me practically since they were old enough to walk through a store without getting lost, or breaking something. You see, my dear Captain, getting gifts of dubious value or taste is something that happens to every . . . parent, along the way."

"I see," he said quietly. "At least I think I do."

Carolyn picked up the pink swan, holding it carefully. "Most of these gifts were for either my birthday, or Christmas, or Mother's Day, but this one . . ." she stroked the swan's beak. " . . . Was a 'just because' present the kids gave to me just before we moved to Schooner Bay. They spent their allowance and some treat money Ralph and Marjorie Muir gave them on it. They told me they didn't want me to be sad that we were leaving Philly, and wanted to thank me for doing all the driving." She smiled. "I know these gifts would be considered junk by anyone else, but they are treasures to me, simply because they were given with love."

The Captain picked up the painted bricks, hefting them in his hands. "And you moved this . . . memorabilia from Philadelphia here, to Gull Cottage?"

"Of course. It was one of the first boxes to go in the car. It had to come."

"I can see why," he nodded.

"You know, it wasn't until I was a parent myself that I understood what Mom and Dad meant when they used to tell me: _"We don't want you to give us anything . . . we have all we need . . ."_

"I remember my Aunt Violet telling me that," the spirit said, a nostalgic look coming over his face.

"Yes . . . But it didn't stop you from giving your aunt — and parents little gifts, did it?" As she continued, Carolyn looked and sounded, Daniel thought, remarkably like her mother, Emily Williams. _"We buy all we want for ourselves. Just show you love us by doing something nice for us — like cooking supper!"_

"When I was a lad, my aunt would tell me that," he agreed. "I think I actually did try to cook for her once." He chuckled. "As I recall, she ate it, and then spent an hour cleaning up the mess in her kitchen!"

"You know, I'm not sure I ever did that," Carolyn laughed. "But I KNOW I must have given them some awful presents along the way!"

"The most important thing to me was those two working for Claymore," he said quietly. "That and my beautiful card." He patted his breast pocket. "This means more to me than all the treasures on earth. Those were my real gifts. I was just a bit concerned about having to put on a brave front about the fish."

"Well, as you can see now, it's something all parents go through." Carolyn smiled. "Many, many times. I imagine it will happen with you, too. On Christmas, the anniversary of the day we came here and met you . . ."

Daniel lifted his eyebrows. "There may be more 'sailfish gifts' coming my way?"

"Possibly." She smiled, "You'll get used to it."

"And anticipate it," he smiled. "I look forward to every day I am given time to spend with you and the children."

Carefully, Carolyn started putting her 'treasures' back in the box. She looked down for a moment and then up into the seaman's beautiful eyes. "Daniel, your gifts today are just a representation of our feelings for you. You do know how much we all . . . love you?"

"Thank-you, Dear Lady." His voice was a whisper. "Yes, I do know that. And I will never forget what you and the children and Martha did, or this birthday. Ever." Suddenly the spirit looked very content. "You know, I believe that maybe after a hundred years, celebrating a birthday again is a good thing . . . a very good thing." He smiled. "And, as Pierre Corneille once said, 'The manner of giving is worth more than the gift.' I'll second that, and to spending an eternity of birthdays with you, Carolyn. For eternity is forever, and forever with you would be a dream come true."

Placing the box on the floor, the beautiful woman beside him filled their glasses once more, and handed one to the sea captain.

"I often heard that forever only exists in fantasy. Do you think we can make it in reality?" she asked, raising her glass and giving him a look that said much more than her words.

"My dear Carolyn, all we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us."

"An eternity with anyone else would seem too long, but an eternity spent with you, just isn't long enough," she whispered, her love for him written all over her expressive face. "Happy Birthday, Daniel."

End


End file.
